


The Soul's Path

by ekmlau



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-06-18 02:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15475227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ekmlau/pseuds/ekmlau
Summary: As young children, Midorima and Takao discovered their soulmate bond. When they are reunited after being separated for over ten years, Takao recognises Midorima as his childhood friend and soulmate, but although Midorima can vaguely recall meeting his soulmate, he doesn't remember that it is Takao.





	1. Chapter 1

Takao peered through the window, his breath misting on the glass as he watched his new neighbours struggle to squeeze a cabinet through their front door. As the couple disappeared inside, Takao noticed a young boy, probably around his own age, sitting on the lawn and gazing at the cloudless summer sky. His hair was a distinctive shade of iridescent green, similar to his mother’s, and his face held a solemn expression that Takao wouldn’t usually expect to see on the face of a five-year-old.

Takao decided that the boy looked lonely and ran outside, ignoring his parents’ protests that a child’s presence would only hinder the neighbours’ progress.

“Hey!” he called out as he approached the boy, taking note of his neat hair and clean, unblemished skin, such a contrast to his own scraped knees and elbows due to hours of playing outside.

The boy turned his attention away from the sky and looked at Takao. He offered a shy smile, his green eyes lighting up and almost seeming to shine in the midday sun. “Hello.”

“My name’s Kazunari,” Takao announced, sliding onto the grass beside the boy.

“I’m Shintarou,” the boy replied politely, turning around to sit cross-legged.  

Takao laughed. “Your name’s too long,” he decided, kicking one foot against the grass in contemplation, before meeting Shintarou’s gaze and telling him earnestly, “I guess I’ll call you Shin-chan then, ’cause we’re friends now!”

Shintarou giggled, blushing slightly. After some thought, he turned to Takao and declared in his soft voice, “Kazu-chan.”

Takao beamed, his smile as bright as the rays of sunlight reflecting off Shintarou’s glasses. “Want to go play, Shin-chan?” he asked, already eagerly tugging at Shintarou’s hand.

Shintarou rose to his feet. “I’ll ask my parents,” he said, making his way towards the front door, but Takao stopped him.

“They’re busy,” he explained, remembering what his parents had told him about not disturbing his neighbours while they unpacked. “You shouldn’t get in their way.”

Shintarou bit his lip, apparently reluctant to do anything without his parents’ permission, but at Takao’s insistence, he allowed himself to be pulled in the direction of the playground down the street.

To Takao’s surprise, the playground was deserted. He was used to having to fight other children for possession of the sandpit, or having to share the climbing equipment with toddlers who were too slow and always got stuck at the top. He expected Shintarou, like most of the other children who frequented the playground, to run straight for the climbing frame and squeal in delight when he reached the top and found himself able to look out over the entire playground, but Shintarou just stood there next to him. When Takao moved to get on the swings, Shintarou followed him and sat down on the side of the sandpit next to the swing set.

Pushing himself off the ground to get the swing’s momentum started, Takao asked Shintarou, “What do you like to do?”

Shintarou, who was neatly building a rather elaborate sandcastle, didn’t say anything for a moment. “I… don’t know,” he replied in a small voice, poking a finger into his sandcastle and causing a turret to break off and crumble to the ground. “My parents are teaching me to play shogi,” he offered eventually, not meeting Takao’s gaze.

Takao, who didn’t know what shogi was, tilted his head in contemplation and looked at him quizzically. Shintarou had been fine before, but he seemed upset all of a sudden. “What do you like to play with your friends?” he inquired, thinking that maybe this would help Shintarou to think of things he enjoyed doing.

To his surprise, Shintarou’s face fell even more, but he turned away and pushed up his glasses. “I don’t… I don’t have any friends,” he mumbled, obviously embarrassed. He leaned his arm on the sandcastle, squashing it entirely. “I have a sister, but she’s only two so she can’t play with me.”

“Oh,” said Takao, realising now why Shintarou had been so reluctant to answer his question. He jumped off the swing and ran over to the sandpit, trying to make the remains of Shintarou’s sandcastle stand up again. “Well, that doesn’t matter, ’cause you’ve got me!”

He beamed, and Shintarou seemed to brighten slightly. “Yeah,” he said softly, smiling again and helping Takao with the sandcastle. “You’re my friend, Kazu-chan.”

They spent some time building a new sandcastle, the silence punctuated by Takao’s random questions and Shintarou’s quiet answers, but soon enough, Takao got bored making sandcastles and started picking up handfuls of sand and tossing them in the air.

“Why are you throwing the sand?” Shintarou demanded, scrambling to get out of the way of the sand floating back down to the ground. He was frowning again as he grumbled, “It’s getting everywhere. Stop it.”

Takao threw another handful of sand in the air, giggling when it landed in his hair. “Don’t you like the sand?” he asked, perplexed by the notion that Shintarou didn’t enjoy playing with sand.

Shintarou dusted sand off his shoes. “I do,” he claimed. “I like sandcastles.”

“Sandcastles are boring, Shin-chan.” Takao reached out to grab Shintarou’s shoe and tried to tug it off his foot. “You should take off your shoes so you can play properly.”

“I don’t want to play in the sand,” Shintarou protested, pulling his foot out of Takao’s grasp. He stood up and declared, “I’m going home.”

“Wait!” cried Takao, getting to his feet and launching himself at Shintarou, sand spraying everywhere. “We’re friends! You’ve got to stay and play! You don’t have any other friends!”

This seemed to annoy Shintarou, because he pushed Takao off him, glaring. “I don’t need any friends,” he muttered, looking close to tears despite his harsh words.

Takao didn’t understand why Shintarou kept changing his mind about whether or not having friends mattered to him, but he could tell that Shintarou was clearly upset. “I’m sorry, Shin-chan!” he called, grabbing Shintarou’s hand but trying not to pull so hard on his arm that Shintarou would get angry at him. “Friends are important! I’m your friend!”

Shintarou stopped moving and stared at him. “Are you?” he wondered in a small voice.

Takao nodded earnestly, refusing to let go of his grip on Shintarou’s hand. “I’ll always be your friend, Shin-chan!” he exclaimed as Shintarou allowed himself to be led back to the sandpit. “But you’ve got to play in the sand with me,” he added as an afterthought. “Otherwise we won’t be able to have any fun together.”

Shintarou frowned in thought, before offering a grudging smile. “Only if you help me make the tallest sandcastle,” he declared.

After getting bored with the sandpit, Takao and Shintarou made their way over to the climbing frame. “I can climb all the way to the top,” Takao announced, and pulled himself up onto the first rope of the structure that almost resembled a three-dimensional spiderweb.

It was only when he had gotten halfway and turned to see where Shintarou was that Takao realised Shintarou hadn’t moved from where he stood. “That’s too dangerous,” Shintarou decided, crossing his arms. “You shouldn’t climb up there.”

Takao pouted. “My parents said as long as someone’s watching me, it’s fine. And you’re watching me, Shin-chan.”

Shintarou remained on the ground. “That’s not what they meant. They were talking about adults–”

“If you’re scared, I’ll help you!” Takao assured him, starting to climb down to the bottom of the climbing frame.

Shintarou shook his head. “I’m not scared,” he told Takao with a disapproving frown, “but it isn’t safe. We shouldn’t climb–”

Before Shintarou could walk away, Takao took hold of his hand again, hanging upside down. “ _Please,_ Shin-chan?” he beseeched him, his blue eyes large and hopeful.

Shintarou didn’t answer, and Takao realised that he was staring at something. “What is it?” Takao asked, dropping to the ground and taking in Shintarou’s shocked expression and wide eyes.

“That’s my name,” Shintarou whispered, pointing at Takao’s chest. “When you were upside down I saw it on your skin.”

Takao pulled up his shirt to reveal a name written in neat emerald green lettering on his chest, just over where he thought his heart was. “Midorima Shintarou,” he read, looking up to meet Shintarou’s gaze. “ _You’re_ Midorima Shintarou?”

Shintarou nodded, moving his hand slightly as though he wanted to reach out and touch the words. “Does that mean… we’re soulmates?” he breathed, his eyes filled with an emotion Takao couldn’t read.

Takao wasn’t sure what to say. How many people with the name of Midorima Shintarou was he likely to meet throughout his lifetime? The green lettering seemed to match Shintarou’s hair and eyes, so he guessed it was somewhat symbolic, but he still found it hard to believe that he could have already met his soulmate at the age of five.

Shintarou seemed to be waiting for an answer to confirm their speculations, so Takao nodded definitively. “Yep,” he said, making the decision not just for Shintarou but also for himself. “We’re not just friends, Shin-chan – we’re soulmates too.”

He took hold of Shintarou’s hands, causing Shintarou to redden and turn away. “I don’t have your name on my chest,” Shintarou muttered, still unsure of whether they really could be soulmates.

Takao, whose parents had educated him on this topic already, reassured Shintarou, “Don’t worry! That’s how it works. Only one person has the other’s name on them, so they’ve got to make sure they tell the person that they’re soulmates, otherwise the other person will never find out!”

“Oh,” said Shintarou, and Takao was surprised that he didn’t already know these things. Shintarou seemed like he would be the clever, studious type, so Takao was glad that he could be the one informing him of something so important.

Takao didn’t really understand what having a soulmate really meant, but he had a feeling it meant that the other person was important. He hoped so, because that meant that Shintarou, who didn’t have any other friends, would always have Takao as his friend. Thinking about that made him smile as he clambered to the top of the climbing frame, Shintarou following him with a little more certainty now that he knew that they were apparently destined to be friends.

When they both reached the top of the structure, Takao was pleased to see that Shintarou was impressed. “It’s really high,” he murmured. His tone of voice didn’t reflect his enjoyment the way Takao’s usually did, but Takao could tell from the way Shintarou’s green eyes widened and his mouth twitched into a smile.

However, their excitement was short-lived as an older male voice cried out, “Shintarou, get down from there! You’ve never climbed up so high before!”

Takao looked down to see Shintarou’s parents approaching, clearly distressed at the disappearance of their son despite their neat and businesslike attire.

Shintarou’s mother tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she fretfully approached the two boys. “Shintarou, who is this?” she demanded, starting to unclasp her shoes in order to climb up and rescue Shintarou if the situation required it.

“It’s okay!” Takao called back, waving and smiling in an attempt to reassure them that Shintarou was safe. “I’m his friend!”

Shintarou’s mother frowned, her expression mirroring one that had appeared on Shintarou’s face when he was displeased with Takao’s antics. “Shintarou, is this true?” she asked, her face softening slightly.

Shintarou nodded slowly at first, before becoming more certain of himself and responding, “Kazu-chan’s my friend.”

Takao felt a warmth stir within him when Shintarou called him ‘Kazu-chan’.

Shintarou’s father’s face was stern, but his green eyes smiled. “I’m sure Shintarou is glad to have your friendship.”

 

~

 

To Takao’s delight, despite Shintarou’s tendency to be rather picky and cautious, Shintarou had apparently been telling the truth when he claimed that Takao was his friend, as he continued to agree to play together during the weeks that followed.

One afternoon, as the sun was beginning its descent into the horizon, Takao and Shintarou swung on the swings at the playground they often frequented, which was now deserted as evening approached. The sun cast a soft glow over the park, and the gentle squeaking of the swings was the only sound that broke the comfortable silence. As the temperature began to drop and the sun’s rays transitioned from golden to a dusky pink, Takao turned to look at Shintarou and grinned.

Takao held out a newspaper he had taken from his parents, desperate to show off his reading skills to Shintarou. He had struggled to read the main columns, but the daily horoscope utilised a much simpler vocabulary, and Takao was pleased when Shintarou seemed impressed.

“What’s your star sign?” he asked Shintarou, eager to demonstrate his cleverness.

Shintarou swung his legs, clearly trying his hardest to remember. “I’m born in July, so… Cancer?”

Takao ran his finger down the list, his face lighting up as he declared, “Cancer is ranked first! Your lucky item of the day is… a coin!”

Shintarou’s eyes widened and he stopped swinging suddenly. “That can’t be real,” he said, quickly averting his gaze after realising he had shown interest in something that seemed so childish, but Takao could see through his pretence and could tell that Shintarou was interested from the soft pink blush that formed on his cheeks.

“It’s real,” Takao assured him earnestly. “You should always carry your lucky item with you,” he insisted. “Do you have a coin?”

Shintarou averted his gaze. “No,” he muttered, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the ground.

Takao laughed and leaned over to reach for Shintarou’s pocket. “I’m sure you’ve got a coin, Shin-chan. It’s lucky for you, after all!”

Shintarou eventually gave in and revealed the coin grasped in his hand. “Is it actually lucky?” he wondered sceptically, adjusting his glasses.

Takao nodded enthusiastically and pointed to the newspaper. “That’s what it says.” He read a few lines down the list and his face fell when he saw his own fortune. “I’m ranked last,” he admitted, but he smiled when he saw his lucky item. “My lucky item is a close friend, though, so that’s you!”

The light pink that dusted Shintarou’s cheeks now blossomed into a deep scarlet like it usually did whenever he was embarrassed or pleased. “I guess it might be real then,” he confessed, before looking up with a small smile, “so I’m glad that I can be your lucky item when you’re ranked last.”

Takao giggled and tossed a handful of leaves at Shintarou. “You always change your mind so quickly, Shin-chan,” he pointed out with a grin, “and you’re _way_ nicer than you often act.”

Shintarou frowned, which just made Takao laugh again. “See? You’re being all grumpy again, but I know you’re actually not!”

Shintarou tried to deny it, but gave up eventually and was forced to admit defeat when he started to giggle.

 

~

 

Takao and Shintarou’s friendship continued to blossom, but as summer came to an end, Takao’s parents presented him with the news that due to their recent job changes, they would be required to move away to make travelling to work more convenient. When Takao protested that it wasn’t fair if he couldn’t see Shintarou every day, his parents couldn’t seem to think of a fitting response, but made a weak excuse that perhaps their two families would keep in touch.

“We’ve been thinking about this for a while,” his father admitted hesitantly, placing a comforting hand on Takao’s shoulder, “but ever since that family moved next door you’ve been so happy playing with their little boy, so we thought we’d give it some time to see if it would work with us staying here…”

“But it’s just getting too difficult, and it’s hard to find time to spend together as a family if we have to take so much time to get to work. We can’t delay the move much longer,” Takao’s mother continued, pulling Takao onto her lap, but Takao just wriggled out of her grasp and scrambled to the door.  

“I promise I’ll see you again,” Takao declared between stifled sobs when he ran to the park in distress to give Shintarou the news. “We aren’t moving very far, so I’ll come and visit you every day!”

He could see the different emotions flicker through Shintarou’s eyes: shock, then disappointment, then sadness, and then finally – loneliness. “I… don’t want you to leave, Kazu-chan,” he said eventually, and Takao realised that in this time he had become more than just a friend to Shintarou – he had been his only friend, his soulmate.

He found himself apologising, even though it wasn’t his fault he had to leave. “I’m sorry, Shin-chan,” he choked, starting to cry again, his eyes already red and puffy. “I’ll visit all the time! I’ll definitely come back!”

Shintarou climbed down, and to Takao’s surprise, he initiated the contact and pulled him into a hug. “I’ll visit you too,” he murmured with uncharacteristic gentleness. “And then we can always be friends.”

A month later, Takao said goodbye to Shintarou for the last time. “Please don’t forget me,” Takao sobbed as his parents tried to hurry him along, offering apologetic and slightly exasperated glances to Shintarou’s parents.

“I won’t forget you,” Shintarou declared solemnly, valiantly blinking back tears. “I promise.”

But when Takao had moved away, the years passed and Shintarou never came to visit, and his parents had seemingly forgotten the family who had lived next door to them for those few fleeting months that were as ephemeral as the promises Takao and Shintarou had made – seeming far too important to be forgotten so easily.


	2. Chapter 2

“Midorima… Shintarou?”

Takao’s eyes widened as the green-haired boy in the desk in front of him turned around at the sound of his name. _It really is him_ , Takao realised with a jolt.

Midorima gazed at him with those familiar emerald eyes, his expression unreadable behind his glasses. “Mm?”

Takao leaned back in his seat, trying to make sense of the mixed feelings rising up inside of him. For the past ten years, he had envisaged the unlikely chance of meeting Midorima again as an event where they would both be a little more excited, but this seemed rather anticlimactic.

“It’s me,” he began with a slightly nervous grin, a little distracted by the sight of Midorima’s unexpectedly handsome face. During his absence, Midorima’s face had matured and become far more angular, and his eyes were narrow and piercing. It came as a shock to Takao, who remembered Midorima as a small, wide-eyed child whose fringe flopped over his glasses in a way that was both endearing and slightly pitiful.

Takao held his breath in anticipation, waiting for the inevitable moment where Midorima would recognise him as his childhood friend and soulmate, but Midorima only offered a blank stare.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Midorima said at last, starting to turn back around in his seat. “The teacher’s going to come in soon, so you should pay attention.”

 _He probably doesn’t recognise me because I’ve gotten so good-looking since we last met_ , Takao reassured himself. He swept his fringe out of his eyes and declared brightly, “There’s no need to be so cold, Shin-chan – it’s the first day of high school. Nobody’s going to – oh–”

He broke off suddenly, realising that he had used the old nickname that so easily slipped off his tongue, but it seemed that Midorima either hadn’t heard him properly or had forgotten the nickname. When Midorima didn’t respond at all, only continuing to frown slightly before fully turning back to face the front of the classroom, Takao clicked his tongue under his breath. He really hadn’t expected Midorima to be this dense, but then again, he didn’t really know him that much after all, Takao realised with a slight pang.

Takao took a deep breath. “I’m Takao Kazunari,” he announced loudly and slowly, intoning every syllable just in case the reason Midorima wasn’t paying him much attention was because of a hearing issue. Perhaps the rest of the students’ idle chatter was too distracting for Midorima to hear him properly, Takao decided. He knew it was a ridiculous notion, as Midorima hadn’t expressed any sort of confusion due to not understanding, but something inside him refused to give up the hope that Midorima might remember him.

Midorima sighed audibly, not even bothering to face Takao again. “I think you’ve got the wrong Midorima,” he concluded after a short pause. “I really don’t know you.”

This time, Takao was certain in his judgement that Midorima really was an idiot, despite his seemingly studious personality. _It’s completely impossible for me to have met two different people called Midorima Shintarou who look exactly the same,_ he thought, partly to reassure himself because Midorima really did seem convinced that they had never met.

“Are you sure?” Takao demanded, leaning over his desk to poke Midorima in the back. “Don’t you remember meeting anyone a long, long time ago? A kid called Kazu-chan? Don’t you remember when we found out that we were–”

 _I can’t tell him_. Somehow, it felt unfair to burden Midorima with the knowledge that they were soulmates. If he really didn’t remember, then perhaps it was better if Midorima didn’t know. As a child, Takao hadn’t really understood the romantic implications of being soulmates, but now that he was older, he felt a slight twinge of guilt at the thought of practically forcing a relationship onto Midorima by letting him know. From what he remembered of Midorima’s parents, they had seemed like they would be heavily reliant on tradition, so Midorima would probably be inclined to follow these values. Soulmates were fated, so there must be some sort of bond between them, but Takao felt that it wouldn’t really be right to tell Midorima the truth when they barely even knew each other.

Takao sighed despondently, resting his head on his arms and gazing out the window, where leaves tumbled past. He had never expected to meet Midorima again – least of all like this. If anything, he would have wanted Midorima to remember him, and maybe even be a little glad to reunite with his childhood friend, but maybe Takao just hadn’t meant much to Midorima in the first place.

 

~

 

The next day, Takao approached Midorima again, having spent that afternoon coming to the conclusion that if he’d managed to befriend Midorima once, he could do it again. And perhaps – just perhaps – something would jog Midorima’s memory. He made spending time with Midorima his main priority – to the point at which he knew he had become incredibly irritating – in the hope that Midorima would start to remember him.

For Takao, simply spending every free moment during the school day with Midorima was not sufficient. Not only did he insist upon eating lunch together every day, Takao also decided that the best way to gain Midorima’s trust and friendship was to visit his house every morning. It started out as a nostalgic excuse for him to see the neighbourhood where they met, but soon, Takao found himself enjoying the bicycle ride. At first, Midorima was reluctant to accompany him, but when Takao promised to pull him in his family’s old rickshaw, Midorima grudgingly agreed. The only problem was that Midorima had apparently gotten a little too attached to the luxury of riding in a rickshaw, and even when he finally admitted that he didn’t hate Takao’s company, Midorima insisted upon remaining in the rickshaw.

Takao even briefly introduced himself to Midorima’s parents, who offered questioning gazes and told him he looked familiar. Takao admitted vaguely to having lived in the neighbourhood as a child, hoping that Midorima’s parents might mention something in passing that could remind Midorima of his childhood friend.

Yet despite Takao’s most valiant efforts, Midorima truly didn’t seem to recall anything.

He knew he could bring up the topic of soulmates – after all, nobody could possibly forget their soulmate _that_ easily – but he was still plagued by the idea that telling Midorima would ruin any chance of friendship. No matter how desperate he was for Midorima to remember him, Takao was resolute in his decision that he would only tell Midorima if he was absolutely certain that it would turn out well. He couldn’t really say what ‘turning out well’ would mean, but he knew that for the time being, their soulmate bond would remain his secret.

It was a little over a week later when Takao’s curiosity finally started to get the better of him.

“Do you know who your soulmate is?” Takao asked as they ate lunch, nervously picking at a piece of chicken. He knew he was treading on thin ice by asking Midorima this sort of question, but if Midorima actually remembered meeting his soulmate, then things might be different.

To his surprise, Midorima, who had clearly been trying his hardest to ignore Takao while they ate, answered. “I met him… a long time ago,” he revealed, and Takao was suddenly reminded of the countless questions he had asked Midorima when they were children. Surely, if anything, Midorima would remember having a soulmate who was just as annoying, but it came as a shock to Takao when Midorima admitted, “I don’t remember much, but I think we were close.”

Takao felt his heart thump and quickly shovelled rice into his mouth to avoid having to respond. Something about the way Midorima had said that last sentence – with an averted gaze and slightly reddened cheeks – made Takao feel strangely nervous. As a child, Midorima had always blushed easily, and Takao found it rather endearing that he still possessed this tendency.

Midorima opened his mouth again as if to elaborate, but evidently decided against it, turning his attention to his phone. He hummed slightly before putting it back in his pocket.

“What was that?” Takao asked, still eager to make conversation now that the topic had changed.

Midorima’s next words did nothing to still Takao’s nervous excitement. “It’s the daily horoscope,” he said matter-of-factly, and Takao nearly choked on his rice.

“You still believe in that?” he laughed incredulously, not realising that he had once again spoken to Midorima in a familiar way that would imply that they had known each other before.

Midorima glared at him as though it was obvious, but luckily, he didn’t seem to have noticed Takao’s familiar tone. “Of course,” he stated a little haughtily, crossing his arms with a huff. “I always follow the horoscope. You should too.”

Takao had to stifle a laugh, instantly recalling the day he had introduced Midorima to the horoscope, and how he had insisted upon Midorima carrying his lucky item every day.  “What – what got you into following the horoscope?” he wondered, feigning an inquisitive tone although he knew the answer.

Midorima shrugged. “I was very young,” he said abruptly, standing up and heading towards the cafeteria’s exit. “I think it had been a friend…”

“Your soulmate?” Takao prompted, hurrying to catch up to Midorima and continue the conversation, as Midorima didn’t seem like he was planning to continue talking.

Midorima straightened his glasses but didn’t turn around to face him. “Possibly.”

Feeling quite disappointed with Midorima’s reaction, Takao let out a soft sigh. It wasn’t that he even wanted Midorima to immediately associate him with his soulmate anymore; it just hurt a little to think that Midorima couldn’t even remember a single detail of their friendship.

And as the days passed, Takao was forced to admit that maybe Midorima never would. They had been so close as children, and Takao had always enjoyed Midorima’s company, but right now, he was finding it hard to stay motivated when Midorima continued to crush his idealistic hope that he might have been an important part of Midorima’s childhood.

Takao was ready to give up on trying to befriend Midorima – he couldn’t see the point in wasting his time if Midorima couldn’t even remember him and seemed to show no interest in him at all – when he turned up at the first basketball training to see none other than Midorima standing in the corner of the gym. Takao was surprised to find that Midorima had joined the basketball team, as he never would have picked Midorima as the type to enjoy sports, but to his shock, Midorima seemed to be immensely talented. At first, Takao was irritated that Midorima was so much better than him, but he soon realised that they made an unexpectedly good pair.

It was this discovery that made Takao realise that his attempts at friendship were not useless after all, because he was the only person who actually worked well with Midorima on court. The others found him irritating and selfish, but Takao, who was already accustomed to Midorima’s oddities and rather unwelcoming personality, found himself enjoying playing alongside Midorima.

Takao had always found it easy to make friends and knew that he could easily befriend someone more like himself, but now that he had found common ground with Midorima, there was something that made him not want to give up on the prospect of their developing friendship. And he knew that Midorima was warming up to him; he had noticed some of Midorima’s rather tsundere tendencies, where he would pretend to ignore Takao, but the slight flicker of his eyes always revealed that he was actually paying attention.

As the weeks passed, Takao’s attempts at friendship started to come to fruition; one morning, he realised that not only had spending time with Midorima become less of a chore and more of an enjoyable activity, but Midorima had also initiated a conversation for the first time by asking Takao how his weekend was.

He slung an arm around Midorima’s shoulder and declared, “Shin-chan, I’m so proud! Clearly you’re becoming less of an introvert!”

Midorima only averted his gaze and muttered, “I only asked because it’s flu season. You might’ve gotten sick for all I know, idiot.”

Takao grinned to himself. They both knew that it wasn’t flu season, and the light pink dusting Midorima’s cheeks was a tell-tale sign that he was lying.

Because of Midorima’s uptight personality and unwillingness to open up, Takao had expected spending time with Midorima to be rather taxing, but Takao was drawn to him, despite the constant threat of him discovering their soulmate bond.

Or perhaps it was because of this bond that Takao found himself becoming more and more interested in Midorima, to the point at which one day during basketball training, a tiny voice inside his head whispered: _You like him._

Of course, he quickly suppressed this thought, reminding himself of all the most irritating things about Midorima, from his lucky items – he was still annoyed that Midorima didn’t remember who had told him about the horoscope – to how his skills were frustratingly flawless in a way that made Takao feel incredibly inferior.

The moment he passed the ball to Midorima, however, all of Takao’s annoyance dissipated at the sight of the ball being cleanly shot through the hoop, barely touching the edges of the net. He watched as Midorima let his arms fall to his sides, his shoulders relaxing as he turned to face Takao.

“Nice pass,” muttered Midorima, showing rare appreciation for Takao’s skills, and as his heart fluttered slightly at the sound of Midorima’s smooth voice, Takao had to admit that perhaps the voice inside his head was right.

Just perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm alive after almost 2 months of not updating... Hopefully a gap that long between chapters won't happen again (oops)
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


	3. Chapter 3

There was something about Takao that Midorima had found irritating at first, but as they reached the end of their first year, he found it hard to recall what exactly it had been that he had disliked so immensely. Takao seemed no different now compared to when they had met, so Midorima was slowly realising that perhaps _he_ was the one who had changed.

Or rather, his view on Takao had changed.

Takao really was a mystery, Midorima had decided early on in what he grudgingly admitted was their friendship. He had been so convinced that they had met before, always asking peculiar questions, but never revealing the real reason behind his inquiries. As the year progressed, Takao had asked him less and less of these strange questions, almost as though he had finally admitted that they really hadn’t ever met, but Midorima was almost certain that wasn’t the case. Takao didn’t seem like he had come to terms with any sort of realisation; rather, Midorima had a feeling Takao was keeping something from him.

He just wasn’t sure what it was.

Midorima never asked questions – that was Takao’s role; he usually preferred to remain silent and keep to himself, but as their first year drew to a close, he found himself starting to actually become interested in Takao’s life.

The air was still crisp in late March, but the wind had lost its icy edge as they left the school gates for the last time that term.

“I guess the next time we see each other, we’ll be second years.” Takao’s voice broke into Midorima’s thoughts as they stopped at the junction where their paths home diverged. Just the previous week, a wheel on Takao’s rickshaw had broken, much to Midorima’s chagrin, so they’d been walking together to this point out of habit before going their separate ways.

“Mm,” murmured Midorima, and was about to head down the street when an unfamiliar feeling bubbled up inside him, compelling him to turn back to face Takao. His face heating, he blurted, “I – actually – I’m not doing much these holidays, if you wanted to – I don’t know – do anything?”

Midorima felt foolish as soon as the words left his mouth, because he really wasn’t used to initiating plans like this and knew that Takao would probably just laugh at him for such uncharacteristic behaviour. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to ask Takao if he was free, because that seemed like the sort of thing friends would do, but the words had sounded so unnatural. Midorima supposed it _was_ unnatural; Takao had plenty of other friends, and those friendships seemed so different to the one the two of them had. Midorima knew it was his own fault, because he wasn’t outgoing or playful like Takao or his friends, so they never really spent any time together outside school, basketball and their daily commute.

Midorima turned away again and set off resolutely down the street, muttering, “Never mind,” in the hope that Takao would just let it slide and leave to enjoy his holidays, but to his surprise, Takao ran after him.

“Wait, Shin-chan!” he called, and Midorima turned to see that Takao almost looked a little hurt. “Of course I want to hang out with you! We’re friends!”

Midorima felt himself reddening and quickly averted his gaze. He was glad that Takao thought it was obvious that they would still see each other over the holidays, but he didn’t think it had required such a declaration. Still a little flustered, he couldn’t bring himself to give a proper response, but simply mumbled, “Yeah.”

Takao followed him down the street, grinning. “We might as well go do something together now, if you’re so eager, Shin-chan.”

“Idiot.” Midorima clucked his tongue, although he knew that Takao was only teasing him in fun and couldn’t stop the corners of his lips from twitching upwards slightly. He was glad Takao was captivated by the sight of a couple of early cherry blossoms and couldn’t see his face though, because he always found himself getting embarrassed whenever Takao pointed out his rare smiles.

As he watched Takao walk next to him, Midorima was reminded of how much their friendship had affected his life. It always felt too stupid to admit, but Midorima certainly enjoyed playing basketball at Shutoku far more than he had at Teiko – and part of that was because he was no longer working alone. He was always supported by teammates, but now he found himself supporting them in return. Yet if Takao had not reached out to him when they first met, Midorima would never have had a foundation off which to build this sort of relationship with his teammates. Even with Midorima’s own talent, they had not been successful in their goal to win the Winter Cup that year, but if Takao hadn’t been there, Midorima would have continued to play as he always had, with little interaction with his team – and they would not have gotten as far as they did.

They continued to walk in silence, and Midorima couldn’t tell which of them was actually leading the way. Takao was unusually quiet, his expression unreadable as they entered the playground near Midorima’s house.

“How did we end up here?” Takao wondered, taking a seat on a swing and letting the idle breeze push him.

Midorima shrugged, not entirely sure either. “I used to play here as a child,” he said almost on impulse, feeling foolish as he tucked his long legs up to sit on the swing comfortably. The image of another child resurfaced in his memory, so he added, “I often came with my soulmate when we were really young.”

He didn’t know why that had seemed relevant and almost started to regret bringing it up, but when Takao tilted his head in sudden interest, Midorima realised that he had never heard Takao speak about his own soulmate.

“Have you met your soulmate?” Midorima asked cautiously, knowing that soulmates could be a sensitive topic for some, and if Takao hadn’t ever mentioned his own, perhaps he had a reason for this.

Takao seemed to hesitate for a moment, before admitting, “Ever since I was a kid, the thing I wanted more than anything was to meet my soulmate…”

He kept his gaze lowered and his voice was soft, with a hint of something Midorima recognised as longing. Takao seemed unusually pensive now that the topic of his own soulmate had been brought up, which was interesting, because he had always been so curious about Midorima’s.

It was only after they had parted ways later that evening that Midorima realised that Takao had never actually answered his question. His uncharacteristically wistful tone made Midorima strangely curious. Most people their age hadn’t met their soulmates yet, so it would be normal for Takao to also long to meet his, but it was out of character for Takao to be so elusive about it. And he hadn’t specified whether he was the bearer of a soulmate mark or not, which added to the mystery.

As he thought about it, Midorima found his interest growing – and thus, his quest to discover Takao’s soulmate began.

 

~

 

They returned to Shutoku as second years on a day when the wind buffeted the cherry blossom trees, scattering their petals everywhere. Midorima had decided to give Takao the day off from pulling him in the rickshaw, and as they walked into school together on the first day, cherry blossom petals drifting to the ground in front of them, Midorima was suddenly reminded of the opening scene of a shoujo anime Takao had forced them to watch together during the holidays.

The main characters had started their school year just like this, walking side by side through the gates in a shower of flower petals. Of course, Midorima reminded himself, it wasn’t exactly like them, because the characters in question were childhood friends who had fallen in love but spent most of the anime assuming their love was unrequited.

Midorima shook his head, trying to dispel the image from his mind. _Ridiculous,_ he told himself. But despite his best efforts to turn his thoughts back to the year ahead, the mere act of comparing them to the fictional couple made his cheeks flush slightly. He had never been a fan of anime, particularly the peculiar romantic comedy anime Takao was strangely fond of, so he wasn’t sure why he was thinking about it now.

As Midorima turned to look at Takao, he noticed how the sun’s soft morning rays brought out the flecks of light in Takao’s eyes. Takao grinned as a flower fluttered down to rest on his head, and laughed as he swept it off, his fingers just managing to accidentally brush against Midorima’s as he brought his hand back down to his side. Midorima suppressed a gulp and looked away, the image of Takao smiling amongst the flower petals permanently ingrained in his mind.

They ended up in the same class again, and despite Midorima’s secret happiness that he would have a friend with him, he somehow managed to revert to his tsundere ways, muttering, “It’s really not a big deal,” when Takao exclaimed in delight that they would be spending another year together.

Midorima had spent most of the holidays trying to elicit information about Takao’s soulmate from him, but to no avail. It seemed that Takao was as eager to hear about Midorima’s soulmate as he was reluctant to talk about his own.

The topic of soulmates weighed so heavily upon Midorima’s mind that when he heard it come up in a conversation between several of his classmates, he almost paid no attention, thinking it was inside his head.

“I met my soulmate over the holidays!” announced Eguchi, a female classmate Midorima had barely spoken to the previous year. “We both wanted the last packet of pocky in the convenience store, and at first I thought we were going to get into a fight, but luckily I suggested just taking half each. And then I introduced myself and apologised ’cause I felt bad for causing a scene in the shop, and it turns out my name’s written on his chest!”

Midorima had only been half-listening, but Takao, who was at the desk beside him, seemed interested in Eguchi’s tale, so Midorima decided it was the perfect opportunity to bring up the topic once again.

“Did you end up meeting your soulmate, Takao?” he asked with feigned nonchalance.

Caught off-guard, Takao turned abruptly to face him. “Who knows?” he responded with a shrug. “They could be anyone off the street. But what about you, Shin-chan? Did you find your long-lost soulmate?”

“No.” Midorima cursed inwardly at Takao’s ability to evade his questions, a slight scowl forming on his face. He knew he could just be more specific and ask whether Takao had actually ever met his soulmate, but he didn’t want to come across too suspiciously. From Takao’s vague answers so far, Midorima knew it was unlikely for Takao to tell him anything if he was too demanding.

A sigh escaped Midorima’s mouth as he realised that he really was becoming far too invested in the matter of Takao’s soulmate than he should be.

 

~

 

A week later, when Midorima had still learned nothing more, he was presented with another chance. While stretching on the oval during their PE class, Midorima noticed another student complaining about ants biting him as he was sitting on the grass, and he started to form an idea.

“There’s a spider,” Midorima said matter-of-factly while Takao was lying face down on the grass. He forced a gasp and continued, feeling absolutely ridiculous, “It just went up your shirt! It’s really big!”

Takao flipped himself over immediately and started feeling down the collar of his shirt in an attempt to search for the non-existent spider. Midorima’s hopes started to rise when Takao seemed close to ripping his shirt off in panic, but to his immense disappointment, Takao had caused too much of a fuss and the teacher had noticed.

“What’s going on here, Takao?” she asked, crossing her arms and swishing her hair behind her shoulders in a way that seemed to intimidate Takao into keeping his shirt on.

His eyes to the ground, Takao stammered, “Uh… A spider went up my shirt, sensei…”

Their teacher shook her head in exasperation. “Stop wriggling. You’ve probably shaken it off by now. Just stand still for a moment and check if you can feel it on you.”

On her command, Takao stood still, before sighing in relief. “You’re right, sensei. I don’t feel any legs, so I think it’s gone.”

Midorima also sighed, but in irritation rather than relief. He had been so close to finally discovering whether Takao had a soulmate mark or not, but now that he had already attempted to convince Takao to take his shirt off, it would be too suspicious if he tried again.

 

~

 

For a while now, Midorima had known that there was another way to find out, but he had pushed that thought to the back of his mind. But as he stood in a shower cubicle one afternoon after a particularly gruelling basketball training, Midorima decided that it might just be worth it.

The changeroom was large, but because it only had one row of shower stalls along the back wall, there were never enough showers for everyone to use at once. On this afternoon, Takao was one of the few unlucky enough to be too slow to claim a shower. Midorima was ashamed even considering it, but part of him hoped that if everyone else was tired after training and took longer in the shower, then perhaps Takao would become impatient and change without showering. And then – Midorima’s face burned as he thought about it – he could open his own door just the tiniest amount and try to catch a glimpse of Takao’s chest.

Sure enough, he soon heard Takao’s voice ring out through the soft hissing of water and steam. “Are you guys ever going to hurry up?” he demanded, and Midorima held his breath, hoping for Takao’s typical impatience to get the better of him.

Midorima hated to admit that he had planned this out several times in his head in preparation for such an occurrence in which he would be able to sneak a glance at Takao, but it was all for the goal of discovering Takao’s soulmate, he reassured himself.

There was a pause for a moment, and Midorima’s heart sank, but then Takao gave an exasperated huff and added, “Fine. I’m hungry and I want to go home, so I guess I’ll just go without a shower this time.”

Midorima felt his heartbeat quicken as he heard the rustling of clothes from outside the showers. Leaving the water running so that Takao wouldn’t notice, he quietly unlocked his door and edged it open by a crack. His breath hitched in what he told himself was excitement for discovering Takao’s soulmate, but it really felt more like nervousness about potentially seeing Takao shirtless.

He only realised now that through their entire first year, they had never changed in front of each other, so it was almost certain that Takao was hiding something. Or, protested the more rational part of his brain, perhaps that was simply a coincidence.

Midorima took a deep breath to calm himself and peered into the changeroom. Takao was surprisingly close to his shower, Midorima realised with a sudden jolt and made sure to take extra precautions to prevent Takao from noticing him.

He only had a side-on view of Takao, who was facing the wall adjacent to the showers as he took off his shirt. Despite Midorima’s best intentions of trying to see Takao’s soulmate mark, he was immediately distracted by the muscles of Takao’s arms and torso. Although Takao was shorter than him, and less broad, he certainly wasn’t weak-looking like Kuroko, one of Midorima’s middle school basketball teammates. Midorima tilted his head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the left side of Takao’s chest, over his heart where the soulmate mark would be if he had one, but the angle was wrong and no matter how hard Midorima tried, he wouldn’t be able to see Takao’s chest without exposing his position.

But despite his failure, Midorima still felt a strange rush of excitement. He swallowed dryly, somehow unable to drag his eyes away from the sight of the shirtless Takao.

_What am I doing?_

Midorima shook his head in horror as it suddenly registered with him that not only was he spying on Takao in the changeroom, he was practically checking him out at the same time! Suddenly flustered to the point of thoughtlessness, he slammed the cubicle door and pressed his back against it, his heart racing.

The last thing he saw before the door closed was Takao’s gaze snapping to the source of the loud slam, and his eyes widening in disbelief.

 _This isn’t happening,_ Midorima insisted as he stood motionlessly against the door. _He can’t have seen me. There’s no way._

Against his will, Midorima’s mind turned to less pressing but equally as disturbing matters. _I was looking at him,_ he realised in a mixture of shock and revulsion. _How could I do that to the one person who’s actually friends with me?_ he berated himself, imagining Takao’s look of disgust when he realised that Midorima had broken his trust and violated his privacy.

He stepped back under the shower water, which had been running pointlessly for several minutes now, and wished that he had never come up with such a plan that was doomed to fail.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! I'll try to post every few weeks (hopefully)!
> 
> I'm on tumblr @midotaka-is-destiny (as you can tell, I love them with my entire heart and soul)


End file.
